


Gaze

by schwertlilie



Category: Hetalia: Axis Powers
Genre: "Boys" as endearment for adult men, Hand Jobs, M/M, Sweat, domestic/tradesman kink
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-09-10
Updated: 2014-09-10
Packaged: 2018-02-16 20:03:11
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 862
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2282793
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/schwertlilie/pseuds/schwertlilie
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Arthur isn't enjoying the view he has of Matthew and Alfred. Why would he do something uncouth like stare at the way the sweat shines on Alfred's skin while the two build a gazebo in Alfred's yard?</p><p>(Francis isn't fooled.)</p>
            </blockquote>





	Gaze

Arthur wasn't watching Matthew and Alfred putter in the garden. 

That his chair was on the back porch and that he was taking his tea outside were just coincidences, no matter what the frog was saying. Loudly and repeatedly.

"I would tell you to look at them, mes sourcils," Francis said, his palms resting lightly on Arthur's shoulders, "but you already are."

"Be a pervert somewhere else, frog. I'm having my tea."

"Oh?" His fingertips squeezed, ever so gently, against Arthur's shirt; then he pulled away, sat on the other deck chair. "There, I am 'somewhere else.'"

"Good."

Francis clucked his tongue, then settled back against the cushion. "You are no fun today, mon petit, not like our darlings over there, with their glistening skin and sliding muscles."

"Of course they're sweating. They're building a gazebo in the middle of summer." Francis didn't answer, so for good measure Arthur added "In the sun."

Still no response, so Arthur chanced a glance at the boys, and- Oh. 

Alfred was licking a line of sweat from Matthew's neck, until Matthew chased him away with a swat and a huff. "We'll never get this done if you keep doing that," Matthew said. 

Alfred puffed out his cheeks. "You're such a spoilsport, Matt."

" _You're_ the one who insisted it had to get done this weekend."

"Yeah, well, it does. But a little distraction never hurt anyone!"

Matthew snorted, and turned to his electric saw. His sleeveless shirt stuck to his back, and even from across the garden Arthur could see the outline of his vertebrae as he curved over the board. But as always Alfred drew Arthur's gaze back when he pulled off his shirt.

Arthur must have made a noise, or something, because Francis murmured "Yes," and took his hand. "Lovely."

Arthur snorted. "Alfred threw his shirt onto the hedge."

"As he is wont." Francis ran his thumb over Arthur's knuckles, and Arthur didn't pull away. "It's charming, is it not?"

"It's slovenly."

"You say that as if you don't have one of my shirts hidden in your closet." Matthew's saw roared to life, and Francis smiled. "Watch."

Arthur snorted - as if he could do anything different, with his chair facing the yard and Francis holding him in place. 

Matthew pulled down on the handle, and the saw blade cut neatly through a board. Then he pulled it up, slipped the guard into place, moved the cut piece behind him, and took another piece from Alfred. The two settled into a rhythm, Alfred marking off the measurements and Matthew cutting the planks to size. It made Arthur's fingers twitch to see them, and Francis smile knowingly - the quick competence of Alfred's pencil, the ease of Matthew's hand on the saw and the steadiness of his hand on the board. 

Alfred's fingers brushed Matthew's during a trade-off, and Arthur licked his lips. And then Matthew turned off the saw, began sorting through the planks in response to Alfred's laughing instructions-

Francis' hand slid off the table, into Arthur's trousers; Arthur grunted when Francis wormed his Arthur's fly down, curved his hand around Arthur's half-hard cock. 

Matthew picked up a plank - a railing - and moved it into place between two pillars. Alfred followed with the electric drill, his shoulder blades moving under sweat-slick skin as he raised the drill into position and pressed it forward. The brothers moved like they'd done this before, Matthew's hands shifting out of Alfred's way without asking, Alfred standing and reaching around Matthew's body.

Matthew handed Alfred a screwdriver and Alfred darted in for a kiss; Francis thumbed the head of Arthur's cock while Alfred licked the seam of Matthew's lips, and Arthur couldn't say what made his hips jerk, Francis' hand or the way the afternoon sunlight reflected off of the boys' skin and the smudge of dirt on Alfred's left shoulder. 

The boys laughed at some joke and turned back to their tasks. Alfred made quick work of the screws, barely rippling the skin of his back as he twisted the tool in and in and _in_ ; Matthew was a solid presence at his side. Their shoulders bumped when Alfred reached for another piece of wood, settled it into Matthew's hands. They made it all look easy, the lifting and drilling and cutting and-

Francis' hand kept easy rhythm but Arthur's hips were rocking insistently. He was- Arthur wanted the boys to be finished, for Alfred to saunter up to the deck and slide into Arthur's lap so that Arthur could touch, could rut against Alfred's stomach and cock while Matthew came up behind to hold them together. So that Arthur could slide his fingers over honest sweat, trace patterns against Alfred's chest, against those same muscles that were tensing to hold the drill in place and push _in_ -

He came silently, back arched, eyes on his boys. 

(Alfred turned, laughed and called him a pervy old man; Matthew blushed; and Francis licked his fingers clean, smirking at Arthur all the while. But when it was finally too dark to keep working, the boys came inside and let Arthur fuck them against the coffee table, sweat and dirt and all.)

**Author's Note:**

> Originally written for kink_bingo 2011, Domestic/Tradesman Kink, but never posted.


End file.
